


the sky above (can you see it yet?)

by problematiquefave



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cave-In, F/M, First Meetings, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Medieval Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-01 10:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18798364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematiquefave/pseuds/problematiquefave
Summary: A decades long war. A reckless cannon shot. A prince and princess trapped together. And, maybe, the distant glimmer of peace.





	the sky above (can you see it yet?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chocolatepot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolatepot/gifts).



> It's been a long while since I've written an original fic so this might be rusty. I wish I could've had more time to expand on it but I hope you still enjoy it.

The Davarians are a _deeply_ stupid people.

That’s the only way Kashiani can describe them — unfailingly moronic, idiotic enough to bring a _cannon_ into a battle in a mountain pass, even more so to actually fire it. Yet that’s exactly what the Davarians did, deafening the combatants and causing the ground to shake. _“RUN!”_ was all she could shout before the roar of falling rocks drowned everything else out. She hopes they heard her. No one, not even a Davarian, deserves that death.

It’s a Treshan belief — or perhaps it’s just Kashiani’s — that a soldier deserves a soldier’s death. If you live fighting, you should be able to die fighting. Being crushed by hundreds of pounds of rocks is _not that_.

Being trapped behind a solid wall of rock is also _not that_ but she’s got more of a chance, she thinks. She claws at the rock, bloody nails and fingers, her tongue tasting iron as she bites her lips and scrabbles at the stones. Every chunk she frees drags her spirit down as she fails to see light. But she’s never backed down in the face of failure, _especially_ when someone tells her too.

“You should stop,” a voice from behind her says, trembling and a little out of breath. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

There’s only one person trapped in here with her and that’s a Davarian soldier. When she awoke, choking on dust and drowning in darkness until she found the box of matches she kept beneath her armor, he was the first thing she saw. Young and blond, wearing a breastplate bearing the Davarian royal crest. _Important_ , though he’s no general she recognizes. After noticing that, she noticed the unnatural bend of his leg and the blood seeping through his pants. Important but not useful. He came to as she was examining the cave-in and he’s been a gnat since.

“You’ll break something,” he insists. For the first time, she responds with something other than _‘shut up.’_

“A broken nail is better than death.”

It gives him pause but not for long enough. “They’ll get us out.” He sounds _hopeful_ and it makes Kashiani want to wretch.

“They _who?_ ” She turns to him. The match has long gone out but she no longer needs it. Though Treshans are as human as Davarians, they’re from these mountains; they came to power in the darkness of these caverns. Her people, her ancestors, could see in this pitch black and as their descendent, as their _princess_ , so can she. However, considering his gaze is level with her waist if she were standing a few feet to the right, the same can’t be said for him.

“People. Soldiers.”

“The ones you buried in a landslide?”

“I didn’t— I wasn’t—”

“Save it.”

She turns back to the wall, returns to her fruitless efforts. And it… Goes as well as can be imagined. _Gods_. Kashiani leans her forearms against the rocks, her whole body sagging. Thoughts race through her mind, as hard to catch as water running through her fingers. She could really use some water now. There’s dust on her tongue, clinging to the back of her throat.

It doesn’t take long for the Davarian to notice she’s stopped. He might not see but the quiet speaks for itself. So even though that’s what she desperately craves — _quiet_ — it’s not what she gets. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“What do you think?” she spits back with the venom of a shudora bat.

“I think—” He cuts himself off, trembling as his sighs. “I’m trying _not_ to. Because I’m trapped in a pitch black cave-in and I can’t move my leg. _Skato_.”

Kashiani knows Davarian almost as fluently as her native tongue but even a child would recognize that word. _Especially_ a child. Foreign curses are just the sort of things they love.

Her lips purse in the darkness but, after a second of hesitation, she steps away from the wall. Her footsteps are loud in the cavern, debris crunching beneath her feet. She crouches beside the soldier, announcing, “I’m on your left,” just as she touches his shoulder. He flinches but he’s not scared. Not of her, at least. “Can I look at your leg?”

His lips open then close. “If you can see.”

She can so she does. It’s not like looking at it in the full light of the sun but she can still see the gashes and the unnatural bend. There’s a bump where there shouldn’t be and, with a heavy gut, she thinks that might be bones. At least it’s not sticking _out_ of the skin.

“I’ve seen worse,” Kashiani says, nodding to herself. “But… I don’t think you’ll be fighting anytime soon.”

The draws a wry laugh from his lips. “I’m not— I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place.”

“You’ve got good armor for a conscript.”

“It’s my father’s.” She frowns at him. Even though he can’t see her expression, he answers her unasked question. “He’s the king.”

Kashiani jerks away from him like she’s been burned. “Are you— _You’re the crown prince_.” She doesn’t even need to ask. Know thy enemy is a saying her people take to heart. The king had two sons, one when he was still a prince, who died the same year she was born in the same war she still fights. Then he had another, the only other child he had with the wife he’s famously loyal to, and kept the boy sheltered from the fighting. He’s right; he shouldn’t be here. But… “ _How?_ ”

“I had to see.” There’s a strength in his voice that’s overshadowed by his pain.

She leans against the wall beside him, tilting her head back and staring at the rock ceiling. _Gods_ , she thinks, because she can’t help it. If this weren’t bad enough. If the second Davarian crown prince — _Tomias_ , a memory whispers to her — dies… Her people will never ask for mercy but they’re going to need luck and perseverance. That would be an anger, a grief, that wouldn’t fade until King Dalsjo does.

“We need to get out of here.” They do and yet… _Skato_ , as he said. They can’t.

“But—”

She cuts him off, pushing herself to her knees. “No. I can do this.” She will or she’ll die trying. If they find her, they’ll find her with chipped nails and bleeding fingers. She can’t heal his leg but she can claw their way out of this tomb.

As luck would have it though, she doesn’t have to go _that_ far. Sure, she makes her own headway, but not nearly enough. Alone, she’s just a girl against a mountain, but she’s not alone; she’s a soldier, a commander, and a princess. She’s got an army that digs from the other side and they get through the block quicker than she could pray for. The Gods heard her.

“Kash!”

She’s never cared for formality but it’s not even on her mind when her second hand, Doreni, launches into her arms. Kashiani wraps her arms around the other woman and hugs her suffocatingly tight.

“I thought— Oh _Gods_ , I thought I lost you.”

“Never,” she says with a sharp gaze and a crooked grin. “I’m tougher than a mountain.”

“Still human,” Doreni mutters, closing her eyes as she shakes her head. When she opens them, she spots the prince. She goes from relieved to guarded in a split second, pulling her blade so fast it might as well have materialized in her hand. “ _You._ ”

He stares at them, wide-eyed and shrinking back into the rock. Kashiani meets his eyes, holding his gaze before placing her hand on Doreni’s. She might as well have grown a second head for the way her second reacts.

Kashiani, however, won’t bow before a startled look. “He’s no threat. Look at his leg. Besides, we need him – he can help us end this war.”

“What—”

Doreni stops when she motions for her to. And though disgruntled is an understatement for her expression, she follows Kashiani’s orders to get a stretcher for Tomias. Alone, she returns to his side.

“I am Kashiani of Tresha, crown princess and heir to the throne. This war has raged longer than I have been alive. My father was a boy when it started. It needs to end,” she says. “ _We_ can do that.”

“I—”

“ _Please_.” She grabs his hands, her dark skin contrasted against his pallor, continuing, “You’re in pain, I’m surprised you’re still awake. We’ll take care of you. You can give me your answer when you’re better. But please, consider it.”

She’s not sure it’ll work but just minutes ago she wasn’t sure she was getting out of here. Now they both are and, if he’s game, they can do this. Who knew peace could possibly be found in a place like this?


End file.
